i am art and i am called impulse
there is audible scolding
but i'm simply knocking things off my bucket list
she asks why i'm almost done when i have 60 years ahead
she thinks i will outlive her when in fact i am ending soon
what she doesn't know won't hurt her
inhale this melancholy, what do i have to live for
my life is a record and the absence is haunting
the things i do, the things i chase after only to get a high
i am not happy
i am not ok
if there is no future why do i have to stay
she's fixated on the temporary but i will be permanent